The Blue Moon Isn’t Blue — And Other Ways I Have Disappointed My Mother

GiaB writing prompt #6 — the moon

There was a blue moon on Halloween.

I was staying the night with my mom, whose Alzheimer's has been escalating to the point that we are not comfortable letting her stay by herself anymore.

Trying to engage her in something that isn’t that confusion of dreams and reality that is her mind these days, I mentioned I was going outside to look for the blue moon. She said she would like to see it, too.

The skies in North Carolina were cloudy that night, but there it was amidst the clouds. I snapped a few shots with my camera phone between cloud cover.

Mom was not impressed. Blue is her favorite color and that moon was certainly not blue.

I explained that a blue moon was the second full moon in a month. It was quite cool that it was on Halloween — that hadn’t happened since 1944.

I showed Mom one of my pictures that had a blue cast. “That’s simply the clouds,” she said. She was right.

My mom and I have always had an emotional relationship. She wanted to raise children who were independent, including in their thinking, and she got a bit too much of it with the five of us. Independent thinkers can be difficult to parent and the frustration continues as they grow up.

I, particularly, am difficult for her. I have both a strong emotional side along with my dad’s unemotional logical side. I usually like that about me. With my mom, however, I am sensitive and stubborn. She can make me cry like no other. Of all of her five children, I have been the most difficult for her, too. We love each other well but drive each other crazy.

Mom’s Alzheimer’s is teaching me to have more patience and compassion, which in the past I must admit that I sometimes couldn’t reach with her. Funny that it takes an actual diagnosis to realize how people react is controlled by much more than simply their will.

I am trying to understand the fear that I know she is experiencing now as her mind betrays her and put myself in her shoes. What would I think if I were living in a world that seems like reality and yet those I love and trust keep telling me that my brain is faulty and none of it is true?

I remember a time when I had a bad concussion. I felt as though I was in a different world than everyone else and was watching them from the other side of a diaphanous curtain. They didn’t notice the curtain was there. It was scary until I just let myself relax and experience it. Then it was simply interesting. Mom’s still in the scary.

Mom calms when I am calm and remind her of reality soothingly. Sometimes she forgets what I say immediately, but it has gotten her beyond the distress. One of the good points of the disease is that while she focuses on several memories that aren’t true and repeats them over and over, she can easily be moved along to a new train of thought. Of course, she’ll probably return to that other thought minutes later, but maybe with less distress.

I suspect Mom has already forgotten the blue moon that wasn’t blue, but I haven’t. As she looked up at the sky with me she lost her balance a bit. I took note of this new symptom and gave her my support. That’s how I can help her most. Watching her and noticing changes in her condition, while supporting her and guiding her when she can’t do it herself.

No, the blue moon wasn’t blue, but it was amazing. I appreciate that I can feel that to my bones. I wish my mom could experience the awe and wonder. She can’t right now, but she can feel her daughter’s strength when she is shaky. There’s something amazing about that, too. That’s why I’m here. Getting to watch the moon is simply a bonus.

Thanks to Victor Sarkin and Chirag for another great prompt.

Also thanks to Gayle Kurtzer-Meyers for the push. Here’s her beautiful response.

And another from my friend Melissa Bee.

I challenge Kristie Darling to take the prompt and run with it.

Kim McKinney can get caught up in moon-gazing and pondering the wonders of the sky. She tries to keep her feet planted in reality at the same time. There’s a reason she’s here and she needs to live that purpose.